Duty's Toll
by Lara Liralea
Summary: Duty exacts a terrible toll. Please see the note in my profile for further explanation. Now COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Chip had been maintaining control. Single mindedly, as Lee would, commanding without letting it interfere. Only for ten minutes but it seemed like hours. He was holding on, holding everything at bay when he heard the voice behind him.

"Status?" It was the admiral's voice at his back. A voice Chip would have dreaded hearing if he'd allowed himself to think of the admiral these last ten minutes.

"Sir, are you okay sir?" Sharkey's concerned voice asked.

"I'm fine," Nelson answered. ""Just a bump on the head. Status?"

The question was asked of Chip and Chip should give the report. He should turn around and face the admiral and tell him. Knowing this, he still kept his back to Nelson and Sharkey hesitantly spoke for him.

"The hull ruptured at B-24. It was sealed in time, though. We're almost surfaced."

"Good." The admiral paused. "Where the hell's Lee? He wouldn't sleep through this. He may be hurt. Chief, send-"

"He was in B-24," Chip interrupted. He had the courage to speak, but not the courage to face the admiral. "He was there when it blew and I dogged the hatch."

Nelson was silent behind Chip. He felt a coward keeping Nelson at his back. But, to face Nelson's grief risked the control he had on his own. Again, Sharkey spoke, a tremor in his voice.

"The skipper and I were running down the corridor, headed for the control room. We passed B-24 and he saw Davenport down, trapped under a grid rack. He told me to call for help. I grabbed the mic, the skipper went to Davenport. Mr. Morton showed up and then…" Sharkey's voice choked off.

The control room was dead silent outside the soft ping of the sonar. Chip felt the sub surface but no one broke the silence to announce it. Once again, Sharkey spoke.

"Come on, sir, you need to let the doc have a look at that. It's still bleeding."

Once their footsteps trailed past hearing, Chip turned to resume commands.

"Sonar, set up a running calculation of the safest intercept coordinates for the nearest silos. Missile room, standby to receive and re-set coordinates and be ready to fire on my order. Damage control get a full damage and repair report. As soon as the compartment's cleared, send in a recovery team. Mr. O'Brien, set a course to one mile outside the charted deployment distance."

All Chip wanted was to get away alone to deal with what had happened. But, he couldn't turn over command until his duty was done. Not until Seaview was out of danger and Lee's body was out of the tomb of Chip's making. Chip went through the motions and waited for news they'd found the remains of the man he'd considered a brother for so many years. Finally, O'Brien relayed the information.

"Sir, we've reached safe coordinates. Repair crews estimate three hours to patch. The tear's high, we should hold up fine surfaced. Davenport's body has been recovered. The skipper…" He hesitated. "The skipper wasn't pinned down. He's gone."

The images Chip had held at bay broke through and began to unreel in his mind. Looking through the open doorway and seeing Lee there, kneeling at the crewman's side, one hand on Davenport's shoulder, the other hand on the rack that pinned him. Chip had called out over the general quarters alarm and Lee had heard and turned to Chip's voice. Their eyes had only just met when Chip heard the violent, snarling, tearing hiss. Chip had looked and seen, for only the briefest split second, the rupture begin. Without a second thought or a second glance towards Lee, instinct had kicked in and he'd slammed shut the hatch and turned the wheel that sealed Lee's fate. Immediately after came Seaview's violent tilt that threw him off his feet.

He'd risen and stood a second staring at the door before he realized what he'd done. He turned to see the horrified look on Sharkey's face. And, for a long few seconds, Chip had stood there on an edge, unable to move or breathe. Then, he'd taken a breath, turned away from Lee's death scene and headed for the control room to take command.

He had done well. He had done as well as Lee would have expected of him. But, now that the danger had passed, there was nothing between him and what had happened. No duty to distract him. And Lee's body was gone. Miles away and down past safe diver depth. The flying sub, undergoing updates at the Institute, wasn't aboard. Those were moot points, though, as the entire area was an unstable danger. Command priority was the safety of Seaview and her crew. Lee wouldn't want lives risked on his account. Lee was gone.

"Very well. Notify me immediately of any change in status. You have the con, Mr. O'Brien. I'll be in my cabin."

Chip entered his cabin, shut the door behind him, went to his desk and sat in his chair. He was finally alone, but he wasn't done yet. There were still reports to fill out. And, notifying next of kin. Lee had taken on that duty as solely his responsibility as Captain. Lee had always made it a point to, as soon as possible after their death, visit to offer personal condolences to the deceased crewman's family. With Lee gone, Chip imagined that duty fell to him. Or maybe the admiral. He'd consult the admiral for the proper protocol for notification and courtesy as far as Davenport's family went.

As far as Lee went, that job was done. Mrs. Crane was gone and Lee's de facto next of kin already knew. But, Chip would still have to deliver the crushing blow to his own mother. He drew in a deep and ragged breath and struggled to maintain control. But, only a second later he let go, gave up and gave in to grief.


	2. Chapter 2

Chip was exhausted. He'd gone to splash water over his face then returned to his desk, pulled an incident report sheet from a drawer and began to write. He wouldn't rest with the reports undone. As he filled the form, he remembered how quickly he'd reacted to seal the door. Without a second glance towards the men trapped there. And, not a second's thought for Lee. It didn't seem right. He had had no choice; he had done his duty as he turned that wheel. Chip had no doubt his actions were right.

What seemed wrong was how he had forgotten Lee in the process. And Davenport. Chip had sealed him to his death as well as Lee. But, Lee's death overshadowed his to the point Davenport was only an afterthought in Chip's conscience. Chip was only human though, he couldn't be expected to mourn a crewman as he would a brother. He did feel bad about Davenport; sorry he was dead and sorry for his family. But, Chip couldn't feel bad for sealing that hatch. Not only would it show a weakness unacceptable in any command personnel, it defied logic.

Chip heard a knock on his door. "Come in."

Chip looked to see the admiral enter. He began to stand but Nelson stopped him with a downward wave of his hand. There was a gauze square taped across Nelson's forehead over his left eye. But, Nelson looked wounded far worse than his injury could explain. He was haggard and pale, transformed more than seemed possible in the space of an hour. Chip looked away from him and down to the papers on his desk. Despite appearances, though, Nelson was still Nelson. His voice was steady as he spoke.

"How are you, Chip?"

"Fine, sir."

As soon as he heard himself say the words, the thought struck him that that was Lee's line, Lee's lie.

"You don't carry it off as well as he did, Chip."

Chip looked back to the admiral. A small smile creased the sorrow on Nelson's face. Chip answered with a half smile of his own.

"Will examined Davenport," Nelson said. "He didn't drown, he was crushed. He would have died instantly, dead before Lee even found him."

Chip's gut twisted. Fate was adding insult to injury. Lee had died trying to save a dead man. After a few seconds of silence, Nelson spoke again.

"You did what you had to do."

"I know that, sir." Chip did know that, he had no regrets for his actions. He couldn't. "But…"

Nelson waited silently and patiently as Chip debated finishing the sentence.

"I didn't think…I forgot Lee was even there."

"How much harder would it have been if you'd remembered?" Nelson didn't wait for an answer before he continued.

"There wasn't time to think. If you'd delayed a second, we'd be on the bottom, dead. You did what you were trained to do. If you hadn't acted as quickly as you did, there'd be one hundred and twenty five lost rather than two. If he'd been able, Lee would have ordered you to do it."

It was true, Chip knew. Knowing Lee, Lee had been giving that order with his last breath. Almost certainly. There was no way to be sure because Chip hadn't glanced back to him. Lee had to have heard that first warning hiss. He may have even heard it a fraction of a second before Chip. What if Lee had tried to escape? What if Lee had sprinted towards the open doorway?

Lee was fast, would have been even faster with death on his heels. But, no matter how fast Lee was, he couldn't have beaten the sea. Chip remembered his last glimpse of Lee. He was at least thirty feet from the door. A second, maybe a second and a half, for Lee to cover the distance to the door, through the doorway and still enough time to secure the door? He couldn't have made it in time, Chip told himself. It was impossible. The wheel was still turning as Chip was knocked from his feet. But, those facts were contrary to the scenario suddenly unfolding in his mind. Lee had made it, he was there, diving for the open doorway just as Chip had slammed it shut.

"Chip," Nelson's voice pulled Chip from his thoughts. Chip looked up to him. "You saved the lives of one hundred and twenty three men tonight. Never forget that."

Chip nodded and Nelson left him alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chip sighed, dropped his pen onto the desk and slumped down into his chair. He was finally done with the report, way past when he should have been. He'd been distracted, unable to stop the what-ifs that invaded his thoughts.

He'd finally given up and given in to supposition. To settle it and be sure, to convince himself and set it aside and move on. But, after countless mental reenactments, calculations and recalculations of measurements of uncertain distances and times, the only thing he was finally sure of was that he could never be sure. Because, in some of the scenarios, it had been possible. Extremely remote, only a miniscule chance. Still, though, a chance that Lee could have escaped.

There was no way to be absolutely accurate in the recollection. He had reacted without thought. Split seconds and inches could have meant the difference between life and death of the entire crew. He'd kept trying to seize the one true memory, but it wasn't there. If it ever had been, it had since been lost in the replays. Thirty feet became twenty, one second became two.

Had seaview really lurched immediately or had there been the briefest lapse between the closed hatch and the crash of the sea? A lapse just long enough to allow Lee's escape.

Chip had finally forced the subject down, sealed it away just as he had sealed that hatch. It didn't matter, he told himself, it couldn't matter.

What was done was done. He had done his duty and, if he couldn't accept it and let it go, he might as well resign and sell insurance. He didn't honor Lee's memory by torturing himself with doubts or regrets. He honored Lee's memory by staying strong and moving on.

And, that is what he'd do, he insisted to himself as he placed the report into a folder. Then he sat there, decided and determined and lost as to his next move. He glanced towards the cabin bunk then away. He was exhausted but didn't think sleep would come easy. And, exhausted as he was, he was still wary of his first sleep, his first dreams. His resolve was strong but no man was master of his nightmares.

He was wary, too, of his first return to the control room, commanding in Lee's place, knowing Lee would never come again to relieve him.

Chip remembered a conversation with Crane a few months prior, during their last leave. He had unexpectedly stopped by Chip's home to let him know he'd have to miss their golf tee time scheduled for two days later. When Chip had asked why, Lee had said he'd be going away for a few days. When Chip had asked where and Lee didn't answer, Chip knew and forced himself silent, letting his expression speak for him. Crane had heard all of Morton's arguments against the ONI missions and still he went. Then, Lee had said something that caught Chip off guard.

"If anything happens to me, it'll be your turn to step up to the plate."

"Nothing's going to happen to you." The statement contradicted Chip's every preceding argument and fear, but the denial was automatic.

"I know, " Lee replied. "But, if it does, Seaview's yours."

"That's not your decision to make, Lee."

"He'll make it."

"You don't know that."

"I know."

Those had been Lee's parting words, timing his exit so that no further discussion was possible. Crane was absolutely certain that, should he be lost, Nelson would offer command of Seview to Morton.

That night, Chip had briefly pondered whether he really wanted command of Seaview. His ambition had always assumed his path would lead to his own command, every deployment a stepping stone leading that way. Until his present position.

He'd recognized serving aboard Seaview for the singular and exceptional opportunity and adventure that it was. His forward drive had cooled. After Lee had assumed command, it was set aside entirely for the time being. Chip was in the perfect career fit and was content to wear it as long as it lasted.

But, with Lee gone, Seaview wouldn't be the same. Nelson wouldn't be the same. And, Morton would have to deal with that altered Nelson on different terms with no buffer between them. Nelson's mere presence contradicted Chip's notion of true and absolute command of a vessel.

John Philips had led Seaview and her crew exceptionally well. But, he seemed always mindful that there was a superior officer aboard above him. Lee had claimed and owned command of Seaview in a way that Philips never had; a way that Chip was doubtful he could ever entirely match as long as Nelson remained aboard.

Morton had mulled it over that night without ever coming to a conclusion as to whether or not he really wanted to inherit Lee's place. He had stopped trying to decide because, for one thing, the decision hinged on Lee's death. For another thing, what he wanted really didn't matter.

He hadn't felt free to choose. Lee had voiced his intent to pass the torch to Chip and, had Crane failed to return from his mission, Morton would have felt obligated, duty bound to uphold Lee's last request. At least long enough to get things back on track, ease the transition for Nelson.

Chip wondered if the admiral was awake. He'd been thrown from sleep in the middle of the night but Morton doubted he'd tried to rest again. Chip didn't want to face the con or the sorrow of the crew. But, he felt drawn to be with Nelson; much as families were compelled to gather together to mourn. Chip and Nelson didn't share as strong a tie to one another as the deep bonds that bound Lee separately to them both. But, they were bound now by a new, shared grief.

Morton rapped softly on Nelson's door and got a 'Come' in response. Cigarette smoke wafted out into the corridor as he opened the door to enter. Nelson was at his desk, in the midst of a smokey haze, readouts and maps spread across the desktop. He waved a hand over the paperwork strewn before him.

"We have to find out what caused that missile to misfire! If one in the chain's bad, they could all be." He scowled and spat out a word in disgust.

"Fail-safe." He shook his head.

"I spoke to Dion. He swears the mechanism he designed is fail-safe; impossible they could malfunction and fire. Two men dead and still he insists it's impossible!"

Nelson seemed lost in fury for a second before looking up to Morton for the first time since he'd entered. He sighed.

"Sit down, Chip."

Chip took a seat, by habit the chair on the left. Looking to the empty chair to his right, he realized for the first time that that was how it always worked out-his seat, Lee's seat. Recalling further back, he realized that, before Lee came aboard, there had only been one chair placed in front of the admiral's desk.

"He's remotely disarmed the whole chain," Nelson said. "Reluctantly and under protest, the idiot. Supposedly disarmed them. Who knows how many flaws there are in his system. He and his team are due on site at 1900 hours."

The admiral began haphazardly refolding the data sheets then pushed them aside. Chip pulled out his prearranged excuse for coming to Nelson.

"I was wondering about the notification process for Davenport's family."

"When the hour's decent, I'll call Angie..." Nelson hesitated a beat before continuing. Imagining, Chip thought, her reaction to the news of Lee's death and the devastating ripple effect as the news spread. Chip imagined his first return to the Institute, walking past all the sad faces that knew Lee was dead and how he'd died. It would be a long walk.

"We'll send a chaplain and representative. I've made arrangements. He'll go out on the same transport that brings Dion. Ruiz, too. He was a close friend of Davenport's. Sharkey suggested he act as honor guard for his trip home; I've given him leave until after the funeral. Sharkey's arranging a memorial for 1600, I'm sure you'd like to speak."

"Will Dion's team be going to the silos, to the bottom?" Chip asked.

Harry nodded. "Eventually, after all possible remote tests and precautions are taken first."

"Maybe they could recov-"

"No!" Nelson cut Chip off mid-word. "There's no point bringing him back just to let him go again. He's at peace now, laid to rest at sea. There's no need to disturb him."

Or, disturb ourselves, Chip thought, suddenly assaulted by a reality temporarily blocked by his hope of seeing Lee one last time. A gruesome image of what would be left of Lee after days at the mercy of the sea and its hungry denizens. Nelson was right.

They sat there silent a few seconds. Then, the admiral opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He poured two drinks and pushed one toward Morton. Nelson raised his glass slightly in Chip's direction and opened his mouth as if to speak.

Morton took his glass in hand, ready to join the toast to Lee he was expecting. But, Nelson faltered, his eyes closed and his chin dropped to his chest. For a second, Chip feared the indomitable admiral was about to break down in front of him.

Then, suddenly, over the general intercom, Sharkey's voice blared.

"Sickbay, emergency in B-24! Repeat, emergency, sickbay to B-24!"

Both Morton and Nelson looked towards the speaker, drawn by the overly agitated voice. The chief tended to sputter when excited but this time he sounded more than beside himself.

"On the double!" Sharkey's voice demanded. "It's the skipper! I think he's alive!"

Chip turned his gaze from the speaker to the admiral, disbelieving, looking to Nelson for confirmation of what he'd just heard. A second after his eyes met Nelson's, Morton bolted from the chair and raced to B-24.

Chip banged his shoulder on the entry's side as he barreled over the sill. He stopped just inside the entrance way. Sharkey knelt by Lee, a cloth pressed against the skipper's head. Crane was sprawled on the deck, motionless and pale. Blood obscured one side of his face and pooled on the floor beneath his head. He didn't look good, he didn't even look alive.

But, only a moment earlier, Chip had held no hope of ever seeing him again. For a second, he stood and wondered if the the scene was real or a dream. Then he went to drop beside Lee. He took Lee's cold hand in one of his own and reached with his other hand to place two fingers against Lee's neck.

Chip felt a hand grasp his shoulder and knew without looking it was Nelson. He felt what he'd hoped for beneath his fingertips, evidence Lee's heart was still beating.

"He's alive."

The grip on his shoulder tightened then Will was beside him and Morton let go of Lee's hand and stood to move out of the doctor's way. Two corpsmen were moving Crane onto a stretcher as Jamison made a perfunctory examination before Lee was lifted and on his way to sickbay.

"Will...?

Nelson's question, desperate to know Lee's condition, caught Jamison as he reached the exit. The doctor didn't stop, only threw an answer over his shoulder as he stepped out.

"I don't know."

Forty-five minutes later, Chip stood with Nelson at Lee's bedside. They'd just been given the good news and allowed back to see him—Crane was badly banged up, one arm casted and bruises blooming over most of his visible skin, but he'd make a full recovery. He was out now, sedated. He'd come to during treatment, but only briefly. Jamison wasn't concerned, said the best thing for him after his ordeal was rest and he wouldn't wake again for hours.

Sharkey had been by sickbay earlier with news, carrying a spent re-breather he'd found just inside an access hatch in B-24.

Davenport had been in that compartment performing routine maintenance on a hydraulic line. Though the access hatch was closed when the compartment was searched, it was open when Sharkey had found Lee. The chief hypothesized that it must have also been open at the time of the rupture. Likely left open when Davenport stepped away from his work and leaving Lee an avenue of survival.

Captain Crane could owe his life to the aftereffects of Seaman Clark's demise. His death had prompted the admiral to install new safeguards. All ducts, vents and tubes that were accessed for maintenance had been fitted with what the crew called 'Clark kits'; re-breathers mounted near interior hatches,valves and turnoffs.

Looking down at Lee, Chip wondered. Now that Lee was back, alive and soon to be well, he allowed himself to speculate. The blood on Lee's face had come from a blunt force wound near his hairline above his left eye. The type of wound that could result from his head crashing into a closing steel hatch as he leapt towards it. But, that wasn't the only possibility. Crane had a broken arm and bruises all over and the head injury could have happened as he was violently tossed about in the lurch and the deluge. Only Lee knew and could answer the question that had haunted Chip since he'd turned that wheel.

That answer would have to wait until tomorrow. Lee would be out till then and, now that he no longer feared his next sleep's dreams, Chip craved rest. He was extremely grateful that his friend was alive but also exhausted and drained. Chip told Nelson goodnight and left for his cabin.

Eleven hours later, Morton hesitated in the corridor outside sickbay, unsure of what approach to take in his first post-incident conversation with Lee. Apologies weren't in order and Lee would reject any attempt, anyway. But, Chip couldn't just ignore the event as if it hadn't happened. Knowing Lee , he'd prefer it that way. But, for Chip, until it was at least acknowledged and gotten past, it would be an elephant in the room between them. He took a deep breath and headed to Lee.

He found Nelson in the bedside chair, beaming as if he'd just discovered something. Morton recalled the admiral's demeanor as he'd raised his glass then faltered. Chip thanked God that that nightmare had been interrupted. When Nelson saw Chip, he stood.

"I'll stop back by later," he said to Lee then lightly slapped Lee's shoulder. "Try not to antagonize Will this time." He smiled at Chip and left.

Morton sat in the chair. Crane grinned up at him and Chip smiled back. After nothing was said for a few seconds, Lee spoke.

"Fine, thanks for asking."

"Why should I bother asking?" Morton said. "The answer's always the same."

"Convention, tradition, concern-"

"Okay, okay," Chip cut him off with a more natural smile this time, familiar banter easing his nerves. "So, really, how are you feeling?"

"Fine. You?"

"Last night, not so good," Chip answered. "Now-I'm great."

There was another stretch of silence as Chip gathered his thoughts to continue the conversation.

"Lee-"

Crane interrupted before he got any further.

"Thanks for saving my boat."

Elephant acknowledged, Chip thought. In Lee's mind, subject successfully dealt with and out of the way. Both the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes carried a message loud and clear. Seaview was safe. Case closed, period.

Chip hesitated in his response. There remained the question; he could ask and have his answer. Or, he could follow Lee's lead and let it go.

He was suddenly and immensely grateful for the chance, one he'd thought he'd lost forever, to follow Lee's lead. Lee was alive; case closed, period. Chip smiled and responded.

"You're welcome."

* * *

**A/N:** When I wrote this, I wasn't happy with it. I wanted to make it better before I posted it. After finding it almost five years later, though, I decided it'll do.


End file.
